Chapter 236 (2/2)

“Come in.” Helen said warily. Who among the pieces who knew where she was staying would knock…?

The door opened and Ikaas stood there awkwardly. Helen wondered idly if her mother had sent her cousin, but she was at least enough of distraction from the brooding that she brought Ikaas into the room and gave her some of Claptrap’s ale to drink.

“Why did you come?” Helen asked bluntly.

Ikaas blushed. “Do…. do you remember how Islinda would hire… an…. individual to accompany us when we would go out…?”

Helen’s mouth twitched. Yes, she did recall how her mother would insist that they take one of the half-way decent spear users among their distant relations when they would meet men for ‘dates’, where they would be trotted around like ponies. It was fucking dumb, and she would tell her mother this at every available opportunity, but her mother would insist there was safety in numbers.

Which wasn’t wrong, but these were cowardly men that Helen could beat black and blue, even before she had experienced her most recent…. boost. Before she had run away from her family, entered the qualifier, and met Randidly.

“Yes, what of it?” Helen said offhandedly, but as soon as she did so, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Ikaas, sent here alone to her. Asking if she recalled the stupid chaperone rule. Right after her mother had witnessed her fight off Kanan…

She had to give her mother this; she would make use of any tool she could to accomplish her goals. Even her own daughter. Especially her own daughter. Except, the only problem now was that Helen wasn’t sure what her mother’s goal was. If Helen’s strength became known, there would be fewer small powers, similar to the leatherworking district she grew up in, that would be willing to offend them. There would even likely be suitors to relatives like Ikaas.

But that was too shallow, and Helen knew it. That was her one great vexation with her mother. For all that she believed her to be a foolish bitch, she took the long view in a way that Helen had never been able to manage.

“Would you… would you be willing to chaperone me…?” Ikaas asked weakly, her eyes already wet with tears at the thought of being rejected. Helen could only sigh.

Which is how she found herself accompanying Ikaas and a man from some Style out to dinner. To her mother’s credit, the man seemed passably attractive, in a large, bulky sort of way, and was genuinely interested in Ikaas as a potential match. Apparently he had seen her wandering the market and been captivated by her beauty.

He had even kept the amount of furtive looks he had given Helen to less than three, before he devolved into an animated conversation with Ikaas. To his credit, they had even been more speculative, as in sizing her battle strength up, rather that dismissive or lustful.

With nothing else to do, Helen could only sip her ale and listen in on their conversation, unwillingly learning more about him. His name was Turn and he was a very minor disciple at one of the 4 largest Styles in Deardun. In terms of potential, he was just average, but he had impressed a high level disciple by risking his body to protect a child. Due to this act, he was brought in and given instruction.

It was too much to say his potential had blossomed, but he had proceeded to grow at a nice pace, and the skills of the Style were well suited to him. If he continued to perform well, his instructors had told him he would be taught a 3-skill Skillset, which would boost his combat power and future potential immensely.

Recently, he had been toying with heading to the frontlines, after seeing how powerful some individuals his age could be, through the tournament, and…

On and on. Helen waved for another drink.

“Um, cousin, don’t you think… you keep ordering the most expensive ale…” Ikaas said nervously.

Feeling slightly drunk and very irritable, Helen simply waved her hand. “Nah, I get free ale. I know a guy.”

“Oh, well do you think-” Turn began good naturedly, but eyeing the high end ale with envy, but Ikaas hurriedly stepped on his toes and whispered several things in quick succession to him. He immediately blanched and shut up.

Helen nodded, very pleased with this. This sort of reaction… she could get used to it. And this sort of ale…

“Huhuhu, Turn, on a date, are you?” A voice behind her rumbled. Helen twisted around in her seat and looked up, and then up farther, because the man behind her towered over her. Then she blinked, because she recognized the man.

“Ah,” Helen pointed. “You are fucking Bertarn. Must suck to be knocked out of the Tournament. Have an ale.”